Dear, dear Hangdog really appreciates what he calls Woman Craft, and all things being equal (wink, wink); he feels the same about guys and expects them to know their Man Craft. (His terms, not mine.) So somewhere in this past 32 years his blood started to simmer until the steam came out his ears, all the while I never noticed since I was so busy sewing quilting. Somehow in his mind, he assumed that if I saw he had clothes that needed patching, I would mend them, since after all, I spent hours a day working on quilts. What he didn’t understand was that sewing a quilt and mending clothes are two entirely different things. I am guilty of the same type of logic, I can’t figure out for the life of me why if he can build a barn, or a house out of logs, why he balks at making a cabinet for the house. Go figure. So finally after I explained I didn’t even patch my clothes, (Prince has nothing on me, I invented butt-out jeans) he relented and started patching his own clothes. Problem solved there. Now he patches my jeans, not that he doesn’t want to see my butt, but Ruthless can’t stand the embarrassment

There’s also great instructions on how to fit a zipper, once you get past in the inside scoop on the domestic relationship! And hey, at least he patches his own jeans. I adore Eric, and we’re usually very egalitarian, but I have to patch the jeans unless I want the legs sewn together!